


but i know i miss you.

by fairycafes (kooscafe)



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Car Sex, Cheating, Childhood Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, barchie childhood bestfriends to cheating lovers to lovers... spicy, no beta we die like men !, sorry to jughead.., sort of follows canon but also... doesn't lmfao, this is betty-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28015293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kooscafe/pseuds/fairycafes
Summary: “I’m asking you now, right now, if you love me, Archie? Or even like me?”In that moment, everything falls apart, only to come together and break apart even worse.Or, the one where Betty Cooper and Archie Andrews leave too many things unsaid, and have an affair that brings too many things to light.
Relationships: Archie Andrews/Betty Cooper, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones (mentioned), Veronica Lodge/Archie Andrews (mentioned)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 80





	but i know i miss you.

**Author's Note:**

> hi♡ i worked on this for a few weeks because betty & archie are my babies & well. they deserve better. so here's my attempt at giving them that, featuring taylor swift's Betty because... duh.

For as long as she could remember, Betty Cooper loved Archie Andrews.

Loved how he always saved her the good box of crayons before the bigger kids could grab them all in preschool. How he always let her have the last swing available throughout all of elementary school-- pushing her diligently until her giggles overtook her and she fell off, blonde ponytail whipping as she sprung up and started her turn to push the boy. How he took her to school dances for most of their lives, never letting her be alone, always smiling brightly and holding her close.

For as long as she could remember, Betty Cooper always felt  _ loved _ by Archie Andrews.

Until the summer before sophomore year happens, and the boy is gone to the wind, naught more than a whisper in her memory as he works for his father and gets worked on by his wretched music teacher. 

Unbeknownst to her, of course, and so she assumes maybe he needs space. Maybe he’s working up the nerve to ask her out, or maybe he’s growing apart (a thought that makes her ache, makes her break until she digs her fingers into her palms and has to stop herself before she bleeds again).

Worrisome thoughts are chased away as they finally reconnect, sitting cozy in a booth at Pop’s, sharing strawberry milkshakes and laughs and longing looks (on her end, though she allows herself to imagine that his eyes twinkle with the same flame she holds for him). It’s her happy place-- whether she means Archie or the booth, she’s too shy to tell. But it’s perfect.

And then in comes the storm-- the reckoning, Veronica Lodge, with lacquered lips and too many smirks and all the charm of the big city that could give Archie everything he ever wanted.

Betty was a fool to think that she was a part of that, she supposes.

Which is why when the dance rolls around, and the closet follows suit, Betty all but collapses-- the weight of a love unrequited too heavy, of grief for what she’ll never have, too much. Too much, too much,  _ too much-- _

When Archie shows up at her door, hair mussed and eyes wide with regret, it takes all her courage to finally utter those words she so desperately avoided, the confrontation she never wanted.

“I’m asking you now, right now, if you  _ love me _ , Archie? Or even like me?”

A beat, and her heart stills.

“Of course I love you, Betty,” Archie’s words are rushed, frustrated within their worry. He takes a step forward, just to ruin it all again. “But I can't give you the answer you want.”

“Why?”

“You are so perfect.” The words feel like a dagger splitting her open, and Betty lets her fingernails, so carefully manicured, gauge out her palms.  _ Perfect _ , the word that haunted her most in her imperfect, catastrophic cul-de-sac life. “I've never been good enough for you. I'll never  _ be  _ good enough for you.”

Blurs replace the night, replace Archie and a hollow ache overtakes Betty’s chest. Hours go by, and she remains in her pastel blush dress, cheeks warm and eyes sticky and head pounding from the force of her sobs.

Her palms remain red, and when she wakes, she realizes her cheeks are pink with the crusts of tears mixed with blood.

She pretends it’s a purposeful blush as she wipes them and moves on, tightening her ponytail and moving aimlessly through the halls.

✧

It takes a few days, but eventually the ache in Betty’s chest only resembles that of a tiny apple seed, rather than of a peach pit, consuming her rotting heart. And despite her mother’s warnings, the young blonde finds herself knocking on her childhood love’s door, bright-eyed and hopeful and desperately hoping they can put it behind them, because if there’s one thing she knows how to do, it is  _ ignoring problems _ .

Small, idle explanations fill their silence, amid awkward, too-long glances to the side to make sure the other doesn’t look ready to run for the hills. It sends a pang to her heart, knowing that a few months ago, this would have looked so different-- would have been hands clutching at one another, eyes filled with light and giggles filling the air as they teased. Now, the reality of their changing relationship only made Betty want to ignore it further.

“Even though you don't like me like that,” Betty starts, focusing all her energy on making the words sound sincere-- and they  _ are _ , to a point, but they burn at her heart to say. “I still want us to be friends. Best friends.”

“You do?” The boy’s voice is filled with shock, and the look on his face says he’s unsure he heard it correctly.

“Yeah,” She reaffirms quietly, fingers twisting together nervously.

“I mean, that's great, Betty.” Archie shoots a smile so bright that it feels like her heart stopped and restarted at his command, pumping faster with love and nerve-endings alight with the flutter of it all. “Me, too.”

“I'd be lying if I said that it didn't hurt--” Pain flickers across his eyes as she speaks, but the boy is quick to conceal and reassure her.

“And I'm sorry, Betty, I didn't do it to be a-- I don't know, I just... I thought it would be better in the long run.”

“And it will be.” Even as the words fall from her lips, Betty’s not sure she believes them, but she tries her best to. She  _ has _ to, or else it will all fall apart, all over again.

For the most part, it works-- until they’re at lunch, and Archie looks like  _ that _ , and sounds so soft and gentle and  _ god _ , how could Betty ever think she was okay so quickly after everything crashed down on her in what felt like a single night. Months of build-up, of tension and long nights staying up wondering anxiously about the answer to her question--  _ Do you love me, Archie? _ \-- all culminating in heartbreak and a despair so deep that she felt like she was drowning in the ocean; stepping into a pond and unexpectedly falling into the waters, sinking quickly as she watched the only lighthouse to guide the way, Archie, flicker away until he was nothing more than a memory. 

“You okay?” His voice is hesitant, and she can barely catch her staggered breaths

“I'm supposed to say,  _ yes _ . That's what the nice girl always says, but.” A trembling breath, and her lips wobble as she bites to attempt at keeping them still. “No, I'm not. I  _ want  _ to be. I thought I could be. But it's too much, too fast.”

It’s with that grief Betty scrambles up, pulling her things together quickly and not daring to look over at Archie’s face-- the tears blurring her vision, a miserable gift that spared her from seeing the broken expression on his beautiful face.

“Betty!” The quarterback calls, voice filled with regrets too deep for Betty to even begin to fathom. “Betty,  _ wait _ . Come on. Listen to me.” A warm hand grabs at her arm and she yanks it away.

“No,” Betty starts, turning around to face him, in all of his blurred glory, tears pouring and voice shaking erratically. “No, when... When I think, Archie, of where I feel  _ safest  _ and most myself, I think of  _ us _ , in a booth, at Pop's…” The reiteration of the realization that her safe space being gone from her presses upon her chest until she feels like she’s suffocating.

Archie’s expression falls, a helpless kind of pity and sadness overtaking him. “Me, too--”

“But that's not true anymore.” She’s cutting him off, but she’s  _ exhausted _ , and pretending to be perfect has to stop somewhere and it’s  _ now _ and Betty’s too borderline delirious off of her own pain that she can’t process that, right now. “I thought I could pretend this weekend didn't happen, but…  _ I can't give you the answer you want.  _ That's what you said to me. And that's how I feel right now.” Sucking in a breath, she shakes her head and takes a few steps backward, stepping away from the one boy she wishes she could run to. “I'm  _ sorry _ .”

“Betty--” Archie’s voice is breaking, but Betty doesn’t dare look back. Instead, she runs. Runs from him, from the school, from the cries of her friends, from all of her problems. From the insufferable heartache that threatens to collapse every piece of her that she’s haphazardly built up with him, every piece she’s struggled to keep up without him. With tears in her eyes and sobs breaking from her heaving chest, Betty runs, and keeps running.

It’s all she’s ever known to do.

✧

When Jughead Jones walks back into her life, all side-smiles and quips that leave her giggling, Betty genuinely feels  _ good _ for the first time in a long time. For the first time since everything happened with Archie, who had done his best to give space, to respect new, unspoken boundaries in their friendship.

Jughead makes her feel safe enough to start falling again-- and somewhere between the mysteries and late nights at the Blue & Gold, she does. She truly, honestly falls for the make-shift, sarcastic Romeo that climbs up her window to rescue her from her dastardly reality. After all the woes and faulty syrup-laden plans gone awry, all the nights spent forcibly stopping herself from crying, it felt nice to let go and allow herself to be swept off her feet by the troubled boy.

Yet just like Romeo and Juliet, they were always doomed from the start.

It becomes evident to her when she’s underneath him-- it’s Jughead’s first time, and he says, “You’re so beautiful, Betty.”

Startlingly quick, Betty’s mind is thrust back to the night after freshman year ended, when she had laid just like this, underneath a gangly Archie Andrews as they fulfilled their pact to lose their virginities to each other, because they’re  _ best friends _ , and who better to do that with? Back to the way he kissed her quick, awkwardly moving and trying to figure things out; to their giggling, trying not to wake up his dad while they smothered their sounds with their mouths. There was no romantic love in that act, not in the way Betty had hoped, and it was too clumsy to have been perfect, but it was  _ their _ night. 

“You’re so beautiful, Betty,” Archie had whispered to her, eyes filled with affection and hands tracing the curves of her stretch marks with care, without judgement.

Betty’s eyes fill with tears and she clamps them shut, tight and hard, as she’s forced back to reality. That night seems so much more far away than just half a year, and it pains her chest. Everything had been set up just  _ so _ , just enough for the dominoes to fall into place for them to have ended up high school sweethearts.

With a hard kiss to Jughead’s parted lips, she pushes the thought away, and wills herself into pretending this is her first time all over again.

It works, until it doesn't, and Betty sleeps with the familiar weight of her own intrusive thoughts pressing upon her once more.

Devastatingly, she dreams of Archie.

✧

In a moment of fear, Betty’s most reckless yet calculated risk taken is telling Archie about the Black Hood calling her. Terror forced a tremble into her fingertips as they darted around the screen of her phone, typing a basic request that wouldn’t tip off anyone to the weighted truth about to spill from her lips the minute she found herself alone with the ginger boy.

“I won’t let you go through this alone,” he says, voice soft and filled with the hero complex and a need to do good that made Betty fall in love with him in the first place. But that was then, and this is now, and so she nods, gripping the straps of her bag tighter as they walk side by side.

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, Archie is  _ there _ . It feels a little like the way he would stick to her side to ward off bullies (namely Cheryl, and her jabs about Betty’s weight) when they were children. The boy remains by her side, hands ready to shield the girl from any danger at any time-- but even the most diligent savior couldn’t save her from herself, her own need to protect those she loves.

Sobbing in a corner of the Blue & Gold office is where the would-be hero finds Betty, lamenting the words spat at Veronica and the words that would have to be uttered to Jughead. It feels like her chest is breaking apart, and all she can do is allow Archie to hold her while all her sorrows pour into his chest, where her face finds itself buried for hours. The school day is forgotten, and all there is, is this  _ embrace _ , this  _ comfort _ , and Betty thinks maybe Archie still is her safe place, after all.

✧

To say that spending the night staking out the woods with Archie in a car was on the top of Betty’s bucket list would be a lie. Yet still, she finds herself curled up into the passenger’s seat, eyeing Archie where he’s slumped into the driver’s seat, warm eyes scanning over the forest with curiosity.

Truthfully, Betty couldn’t remember the last time she and Archie had time on their hands to talk for hours like they used to, and considering the changes in their lives since then, apart of her feared the conversation would dry out if steered away from mysteries-- but the minute they sat there, close and seemingly timeless in their bubble, words flowed easy as if they there sent down Sweetwater River. Time passed and with each hour they grew closer, less preoccupied with the danger at hand and more so with the way their warm breaths hit the other’s face.

It was wrong, Betty knew, to feel this again-- not that it had stopped; it was merely  _ subdued  _ in her time with Jughead. But now with the Black Hood forcing a break-up, and her mind fragile, she couldn’t help but allow her heart to fall onto its old safety net.

And fall it did. Steep and fast, as Archie’s hooded eyes drank in the sight of her like a man starved of any stimulus. A shiver creeped onto Betty’s skin, hands tugging at her sweater and bringing it over her fingertips to ease the sudden chill. The action spurs the ginger boy’s hands to close over hers, fingers hesitating before they push into the crevices of Betty’s, linking together like a perfect match. 

“You remember when we were kids? And you wouldn’t go anywhere without me there to hold your hand?” Archie whispers, the ghost of a chuckle following as he shakes his head softly. “I think that was my favorite thing in the world, when I was eight. Just being together, always. I--” A pause, a hesitation in the next confession. “I feel like I don't know anything half the time anymore, but I know I missed you, Betty.”

“Arch…” Whispering into the scant space between them, Betty is acutely aware of how close they’d actually gotten-- shaking breaths falling onto each other’s face, eyes peering up shyly to roam over the boy’s handsome face. “I missed you, too.” It’s barely picked up by her own ears, but she knows the ginger can hear the quiet reply by the way his eyes follow the movement of her face.

Warm, brown eyes flicker to Betty’s lips, then back up to crystal blues-- a storm brewing in their clear waters, thunder rumbling under her skin like gooseflesh lit from desire, lightning striking her heart with the emotions she’d held at bay.

“Betty, I--” Archie starts, before going silent. There are no words quite enough to convey all he feels in that moment, but when she looks into his eyes, she sees it all. Regret, longing, lust,  _ everything _ . Reading him had always been so easy, as he did her; despite the fumbles as they grew apart, they were still each other’s  _ person _ , and that would never change, no matter how much they attempted to make it so.

“Kiss me, Archie,” she says before she can stop herself, fingers digging into his. “ _ Please _ .” It’s no more than a whimper, and it’s all it takes before his lips are pressed to hers, slicked from chapstick and warm from his strawberry-tinged breath due to the milkshake they shared, and it’s  _ perfect _ . 

Perfect was a word Betty hated with her entire being, for her entire life. Perfect was what Archie called her when his rejection hit her. Perfect was all her mother ever wanted, all she ever forced down her throat like cough syrup to cure her of the sickness that is  _ im _ perfection. And yet when it came to describing  _ them _ , this  _ chemistry _ , it was an undeniable  _ must _ (despite the weight of all the external factors that made it anything  _ but _ \-- of Veronica, of Jughead, of the Black Hood).

A moment passes, and then it’s as if a fire was lit, and it was too warm-- the caress of his fingers too hot, the push of her chest against his too scalding a touch without the night’s cool air to extinguish it. And so layers shed, one by one, until Archie’s fingers unclasp her bra, while her manicured fingers scratch at his chest, and his wet mouth suckles a rosy nipple. Hair down, head tossed back, Betty grabs at his ginger locks and whines-- it’s all she can stand to do, while his free hands wind around her waist to grab at her exposed skin.

Archie’s warm, so  _ warm _ \-- in body and in mind, in heart and soul and Betty  _ loves _ him and it  _ aches _ to be cold without his warmth there. She presses close to him, frigid in her loneliness without him and exhausted at the reminder that she’s gone so long denying the comforting heat that is the boy she loves most.

It’s with that heat Betty drags her mouth across his, gasping sharply as his thick fingers, slightly calloused from work and playing guitar, found their way into her underwear, rubbing carefully at her clit until her legs shook and her hips stilled with the force of her first orgasm. She’s dizzy from the feeling, dizzy from  _ him _ and so painfully hot that she leans back for a second against the seat-- startling when Archie pulls it down, maneuvering her until she’s laying down. It’s confusing at first, but then he’s ducking and his mouth is--  _ oh _ . He’s pressing open-mouthed, languid kisses against her folds as his fingers slip into her, fucking her on his tongue while his hands opened her up for his cock and it’s everything Betty didn’t realize she was missing. 

For a moment, she ponders how drastically things have changed from that first, awkward time. No longer were they clumsy teenagers scrambling to have their virginities stripped-- they were both more experienced (for better or for worse), more sure of themselves, more comfortable in their own skins. Moreover, there was an unspoken tension of the words said then unsaid, and it was  _ time _ .

If only time wasn’t so adamant about separating them; keeping them with other people.

That wouldn’t stop them anymore.

It  _ couldn’t _ , not with how Betty fell apart under Archie’s fingers, his tongue soothing over her cunt in firm licks, before he’s hauling her up and over, barely giving her a second to breathe before he’s sliding her onto his cock, stretching her with a groan. It’s so sudden she gasps, eyes widening and then clamping shut, hands grasping at his shoulders and teeth digging into his neck to ground herself. Usually she’d be digging into herself, ripping herself apart for reality, but with Archie, it’s never been like that-- she could tear into him all she’d like and he’d never even flinch, never do more than ask her to kiss it better with that smile she loved so much.

Momentum builds, hips meeting feverishly as Betty drags herself over his length over and over until Archie’s removing his lips from the bruise he’d been sucking into her collarbone, teeth sinking into her shoulder and grunting softly as he spilled into the condom. Betty’s own release follows soon after, fingers yanking at the red head of hair that was pressed to her chest as he lazily mouthed at her breast in the afterglow.

Minutes pass, feeling like hours as they sit there, absorbed in the aftershocks of their own pleasurable betrayals. It feels like their relationship has reached an impasse-- like this was a turning point, and things could simply never be the same, not after this taste of all they could have, of all they  _ have _ had. Feels like everything and nothing at all when they clean themselves off, shoving themselves back into their clothes just quick enough to catch sight of the Black Hood.

Later that night, when Archie is willing to die in that grave for her, Betty realizes that she was never really anybody but  _ his _ . Not at all. Not even her own.

The thought terrifies her, but the Black Hood terrifies her more.

But only by a little bit.

✧

To say that was the last time Archie and Betty ended up in a cramped corner, hurried and hot and heavy, would be a blatant lie. Weeks pass, and their lips, their bodies, don’t go more than a day without meeting. It becomes a regular form of stress relief-- and their most secret sin, much to the Black Hood’s dismay. 

It’s not inherently horrific, at first, when Betty’s separated from Jughead and Veronica is estranged from Archie by her father. Unfinished business is not the same as cheating, she reasons, and it’s enough for them to let themselves be swept up in unspoken trysts that always end with ignoring their actions and moving on.

Complications, moral and physical, come with the street race. A blur of fast cars and sudden reconciliations, not just for Archie and Veronica, but for Betty, too.

“It won’t make any sense, but everything around us was imploding and I did it to protect you,” Betty laments, and it’s the  _ truth _ . It’s enough to give her an in with Jughead-- hushed conversations following suit in the hours to come, kisses exchanged to soothe bruises their rocky split had formed, unable to heal until they came together again.

And yet it’s not enough for Betty.

The love that had blossomed between she and Jughead, as thorny and imperfect as it was, was  _ good _ . He was good to her, and she  _ loved _ him--  _ loved _ , in past tense, in a way she thought she had been able to love Archie until everything collapsed and she realized it was far too strong to be anything but the  _ present _ tense. Betty  _ loves _ Archie, but Jughead is  _ there _ , and Archie’s with Veronica, and this is the way things are. The way things  _ must _ be.

The thought of the people they loved, the ones whose hearts would shatter with the knowledge of their actions, is not enough to keep them away. It’s not enough to stop Archie from pining Betty against the tile of his bathroom wall, fucking into her like it would be their last time (it wouldn’t, it  _ couldn’t _ ) together. Not enough to stop Betty from gasping into his mouth as she comes, fingernails digging into his scalp as he spends himself inside her. Not enough to make her come clean when she sees Jughead climb up her window, handsome and so in love with her it makes her hollow heart ache because all she can think of is how that feeling was never truly reciprocated, not with that level of strength.

Nothing is ever enough but Archie, and even then, it barely is.

✧

When Jughead fucks her that night, in her childhood room that sat across the redhead boy’s, Betty thinks of Archie.

She wonders if Archie’s watching from the window, curtains open. Wonders if he sees his best friend fuck her into the mattress, sees her arch underneath him, eyes cloudy and struggling to think of the one above her instead of the one who permeated all her thoughts. Wonders if they’re too far gone to stop but that they  _ should _ , that they  _ have to _ , before things are too irreparable and a slip happens.

She doesn’t dare look out the window.

When Betty comes, she thinks of Archie above her, before kissing Jughead as he curls around her in post-coital bliss, turning off the lights with a flick of his hand.

“Love you,” the serpent mutters, voice filled with so much care it makes her eye twitch. Abruptly, she’s thankful he can’t see her face when her echo of those words doesn’t quite match her blank expression.

As the raven-haired boy sleeps beside her in the dark, Betty’s palms bleed, fingers digging into the flesh and ripping it apart for the first time in a month.

She doesn’t allow herself to dress her wounds. Betty falls asleep on her bloodied fists, and changes the soiled pillowcase before the serpent boy awakens.

The blood is gone, leaving nothing but pomegranate seeds within her palm, scarring over again-- but the guilt remains.

✧

A year passes, and clandestine secrets heavy with betrayal remain a regular occurrence for the cheerleader and the quarterback-- an aching cliché that does not slip past Betty, when she dissects her own poor restraint and decision making, post-hookup on the way to climb up her own bedroom window most nights.

Tonight, the backdrop for their tryst changes. Beneath a starlit sky in the forest by Sweetwater River, Betty lies next to the boy she loves, bodies bare and wrapped in an old flannel blanket as they cuddle close. The sound of their heartbeats and the rustle of leaves are the only sounds heard for what feels like miles, and the vast loneliness of it spurs her to curl into him more, fingers scratching across his naked chest, grabbing onto him to remain in this reality.

“Arch?” It’s no more than a hushed whisper, muffled as her lips remain pressed to the skin of his chest.

“Hm?” Archie hums, his big, warm arms winding tighter around her as chocolate eyes find hers in the dim light provided by their lanterns.

“What if we stayed out here forever?” Betty continues, breathless and quiet as she clamps her eyes shut tight. “No responsibilities, no--”  _ No cheating, no Jug, no Ronnie, nothing but us _ . “No  _ anything _ . Just us.”  _ Just us in love _ , she wants to say, but doesn’t.

Things are so often left unsaid between them, they don’t even blink as the pause overtakes the moment.

“If I could stay with you forever somewhere, it wouldn’t be  _ here _ ,” Archie decides on, after a few beats. Glancing back toward the boy, Betty stares expectantly until he elaborates, voice soft and pondering in its tone. “I want to be happy with you forever. And tonight-- I wanted to rectify a bad memory--” A memory of his teacher, of his naïve, trusting nature being taken advantage of. But that remains unspoken, too. “But I don’t want this to be our only memory  _ forever _ . If we have to be static in a memory for an eternity, Betty, I’d want better than  _ this _ .”  _ Better than cheating, than ghosts from our pasts haunting us _ .

Silence overtakes the night, and when morning comes, it continues.

✧

Getting caught was an inevitability of such an illicit affair, and yet when it happens, the visceral reaction is something Betty had not been quite prepared for. They tried their best to sneak around, and to be discreet, and calculate every move with a precision that would have been admirable if not for the dastardly act it was being used for.

But a slip happens, when they’re cast as lovers in the school musical, and end up taking their solo rehearsal too far-- Betty laying on the grand piano, the wood digging into her back as Archie’s thrusts rock them forward. Nobody was at the school this late,  _ ever _ , and so it’s with a startling, frigid shock that Veronica’s scream shakes them out of their bubble.

“What in the ever-loving  _ fuck _ is going on here?” The heiress screeches, and all the pair can do is scramble for their clothing, eyes wide and panicked and searching for each other among the chaos.

“Ronnie, I--” Archie starts, only to be met with a backhand as tears pour down Veronica’s face.

“How long? Huh? How fucking long were you rolling around with our supposed best friend?” Venomous and cold, the old Veronica Lodge rears her ugly head, and this time, Betty can do nothing but be on the receiving end of the reckoning that had been a long-time coming.

Silence fills the room, and Veronica scoffs, hands balled up into fists. “How long, Betty?”

“A year.” Telling the truth felt so foreign, after living on lies and deception for so long-- lies to Veronica, to Jughead, to their families, to themselves.

“A year?” The barest tremble infiltrates Veronica’s voice before she steels herself once more, words like bullets made of iron and anger. “Did you think you were entitled to him? Because you spent so many pathetic years pining after him? Because I came and snapped him up before you could even say the words--”

“That’s  _ enough _ , Ronnie,” Archie tries, stepping in between them, and that’s the wrong move. Fists push against him with an unprecedented force, but like a brick wall, the boy takes them all with a grimace, as Betty watches with tears spilling over.

There was once a time she hurt Veronica, hurt those she cared for to save their lives-- and the agony of that act suffocated her until she couldn’t breathe, despite it being the unselfish thing to do. This moment is so akin to that, but with the fatal, nauseating fact that  _ this  _ was purely due to selfishness, to greed and wanting all she couldn’t have, wanting the boy she’d adored since she was a child, wanting everything only to end up having nothing at all.

Within the chaos, Jughead walks in, a heartbreaking surprise all the way from the Southside. The serpent boy’s smile falls at the sight and his angular face twists painfully, the words spewed from Veronica’s mouth clicking in his head. It doesn’t take long before a punch hits Archie’s cheek, but the boy doesn’t hit back at first. He takes, and takes, and merely tries to talk through the breakdown that was ensuing.

“She loves me,” Archie spits, blood hitting the floor as he shoves Jughead off, resolve and patience snapping all at once. “Just fucking-- I’m sorry it had to be this way but--” Another hit dodged, and there’s no amount of talking that could filter through the rage that thickened the air until it was borderline suffocating.

“I’m sorry, Jug, I’m so sorry--” It’s not enough, it will never be enough to rectify it.

And so Betty runs again. Runs from Jughead, from Veronica, from Archie-- from all the hurt that loving and not loving caused. From all the destruction and emotional debris that came crumbling down, crushing her beneath the weight of the consequences.

Betty runs, like a coward.

Distantly, amid the slapping of her feet against the ground, she realizes she has nowhere and nobody to run to.

✧

Autumn leaves have just begun to find their way back to the Cooper’s doorstep, on the day senior year begins. A very early fall, and a late start to the semester, which is a change not only in nature but also academics. It feels strange, and out of step, and different. But seasons change, and so does Betty Cooper.

Post-split of the friend group, and post-Archie, Betty had a lot of alone time. Nearly five months of long, solitary nights with the curtains closed and nothing but books to keep her company. Detachment was agonizing, for the first few days, but then came the twisted sense of comfort in such a punishment-- the knowledge that every minute spent alone was one minute spent making up for the betrayal that broke apart the people she loved most. Punishment was something Betty was painstakingly familiar with-- crescent moon scars adorned her palms as proof of such. But as time dragged on, for the first time since their trysts started, she no longer found herself needing to tear things open as often, to ground herself in reality.

The other half of the bomb that blew up their group was also in guilt-ridden solitude-- the blonde girl hadn’t seen a peek of him for months, save for one time he was taking out the trash at the same time she was getting the mail, and their eyes met for a second, before Betty hurriedly closed the door again. It was both their faults, but if she were to reflect and repent, she needed to do it alone, no matter how badly she missed him.

Moreover, in the months that passed, she slowly became her  _ own _ person. Not Archie’s, not Jughead’s, not her mother’s, not a mix of them all and some dark, morbid version of her older sister’s haunts---  _ hers _ . Betty Cooper. And despite the hollow ache in her chest that persisted (because there’s no amount of self-discovery that could deny the fact that Archie was her  _ soulmate _ , her other half, and that was an inseparable bond inside personhood itself), it was a necessary sacrifice, and one she’d make all over again, if the outcome would be  _ this _ . This overwhelming feeling of being a  _ person _ , and not a fragmented being that merely existed in the shadows of feelings others caused.

With personhood came decision making, and one of the first decisions Betty makes for  _ herself _ , after a long time of worrying for others, is to walk to school with Archie Andrews.

“Betty,” Archie startles, but his voice is soft, and  _ warm _ , so much warmer than her memory would have supplied, and suddenly the fjord of ice she was metaphorically skating on melts away until she’s drowning in his ocean again.

Except this time, she’s her own lighthouse. He just happens to be the lifeboat that gets her there.

“Arch.” Betty’s tone is gentle, as if the wind has been knocked out of her just by being near him again. It’s been a few months and he looks, impossibly, more handsome than before. Red hair swept back, letterman jacket on his shoulders and book bag slung across his arm, brown eyes glistening with too many emotions but one so overwhelming that not even Betty’s paranoia could explain it away--  _ love _ .

“Walk me to school?” It’s deja vu, in an odd way, but Betty pushes that aside as Archie smiles bright, and she’s reminded swiftly that no number of kilowatts could ever compare to the light that radiates off of him, her favorite person, her first beacon.

“Of course,” Archie bites his lip, shutting the door behind him and pausing for a moment. Thick fingers twitch against his leg, and Betty catches a glance toward her own hand. Before he can think of it, she clasps her hands together in front of her, and nods toward the road expectantly. With an understanding nod, the boy walks next to her, shy at first, and then bubbling up to the surface as if no time had passed at all. Two puzzle pieces coming together again, falling into their rightful place beside each other. 

They don’t hold hands.

Whispers follow them as the duo walk into the school, much to Betty’s dismay. But when she sees Kevin’s face, eager to speak and a sight for sore eyes, she bids Archie farewell with a squeeze to his arm, and allows herself to get back in step with her old friend. It’s nice, and familiar, and no harsh judgements are passed-- not when his own beau, Moose, had a girlfriend at first.

When she spies Jughead in the corner of the hall, Betty’s heart squeezes painfully, but she pushes it aside to meet the serpent boy’s gaze. It’s a tad cold, mostly, but not hateful. All they exchange is a nod of understanding, and it’s a start, at least. If she thinks she catches Sweet Pea linking his fingers through Jug’s, she doesn’t dare comment.

Smoothing things over with Veronica goes in a similar fashion-- naught more than a brief, close-lipped smile and a purposeful nod as she hangs off of Reggie’s arm, content with her new doting boyfriend who looks at her like she hung the stars in the sky. Betty’s happy for her, genuinely, and yearns after the thought that one day they could perhaps repair what was lost.

For now, Betty lets herself breathe.

Everything else can wait, she decides, when Archie smiles at her across from the lunch table, and her heart feels light and nearly  _ whole _ for the first time in a very long time.

She decides that maybe  _ this _ , this little corner of happiness with him, might finally be enough.

✧

Being proposed to with a cherry ring pop at the age of seven, by a redhead boy with a missing bottom tooth, was possibly the highlight of a young Betty Cooper’s life, despite her rejection and a promise to say yes at a later age.

Being proposed to with a cherry ring pop at the age of  _ eighteen _ , by the same redhead boy with a beautiful smile, was a fulfilment to a promise Betty never expected Archie to keep.

“Marry me?” It almost feels like a daydream, the boy down on one knee at her doorstep, letterman jacket adorning his shoulders, ring pop held firmly between his fingers. Blinking, a nervous chuckle slips past the girl’s lips-- it was  _ insanity _ , to marry him this young, to even consider it when they weren’t even officially together, even after nearly a year of peace, of living with the consequences of being post-affair.

“Archie, what--” A giggle cuts her off, and the boy is laughing in earnest.

“I’m kidding, Betts,” the quarterback clarifies. “I’m just trying to set the scene. Will you-- will go to prom with me?”

And  _ oh _ , that makes far more sense than marrying as teenagers fresh out of healing from a problematic tryst. 

With a playful eye roll, Betty nods, hand held out expectantly for her ring. “Of course I’ll go to prom with you, Arch.” The words send butterflies into a flight in her stomach. “But I’m gonna need the ring.”

“Oh, ‘course, my lady!” Dramatically, the boy slips the candy ring onto her corresponding finger, pressing a kiss to her scarred palm as he turns it over. Before the girl could react, Archie laced their fingers together, and dragged her toward the road to start their trek to school.

Dazed and lovestruck, Betty follows with a shy smile seemingly permanently etched upon her blushing features.

A fortnight later, when they’re spinning on the dance floor to some soft pop ballad the Pussycat’s are singing, Betty feels a strange sense of deja vu-- the last time they danced together, it was sophomore year, and heartache ensued. But now, two years older and wiser and slow dancing in a blush-colored, star-speckled gown and gazing up at the boy she loves, it’s so startlingly different and the same that she almost gasps at the realization. 

“Hey, Betty?” Archie whispers after a little while, nose rubbing against hers gently as they swayed, the warmth of his touch making her feel at home even in the crowd.

“Yes, Archie?” Wide-eyed and breathless, the girl gazes up at him, fingers twisting into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to give you the answer you wanted.” A pause, and Archie’s dipping down to press the softest, briefest kiss upon her strawberry-glossed lips. “I  _ do _ love you. I think-- I  _ know _ , I always have, and I always will. And we don't have to be  _ perfect _ .” Tears glisten in the warmth of his eyes, and Betty’s fingers curl deeper into his hair, heart pounding against her chest. “We just have to be  _ us _ \-- I think that's perfectly imperfect enough.”

“I-- I love you, too. But I don’t think that needs to be said--” Betty starts, before Archie cuts her off with a kiss and a shake of his head, red hair flopping into his eyes.

“We’ve left so much to silence already. I want to hear it out loud,” he smiles, nudging their noses together. “Do you love me, Betty?” It’s an almost exact mimic to the inquiry she posed when her life fell apart.

“Of course I love you, Archie.”

And that’s enough.


End file.
